


Forget Me Not

by InfamousGills



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Daft Punk Slash, M/M, Minor Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfamousGills/pseuds/InfamousGills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy-Man tells how he fell in love to a very important person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget Me Not

Guy-Man sighed, recalling the memories from the very beginning.

“I remember the day I met him. We were both caught in the rain; his umbrella had broken and I had forgotten mine all together, and the rain was so bad we had to take shelter in a bus stop. We spoke for hours, and didn’t even notice that the rain had stopped. he grinned at me and took off to wherever he had to be. It was about an hour after he left, that I had arrived home and realized that I hadn’t gotten his name. I didn’t get it for another week when I almost ran over him on my motorbike. I ended up giving him a ride home, even though we lived on the opposite sides of town and it would take me an extra forty five minutes to get home. When he had gotten off he gave me the brightest smile. Ahh.. That smile.. He had a habit of smiling through everything, you know. When he found out his parents were divorcing, he carried on as if nothing happened. When his grandmother passed away, he just smiled through it. It wasn’t until we had been friends for about three years, when we were fifteen and sixteen that I began to see through it. At that point I could read him like a book. I could always tell if he didn’t sleep that night, or whenever he cried. It’s ironic, because for someone who was all smiles, he cried quite a bit. Of course I’d do my best as his friend to comfort him. Pull him out of situations where I could tell he was uncomfortable.. You know, typical things best friends did for one another. Some how, it was those comforts that led us to finding out how we really felt for one another. We were so oblivious, despite it being quite obvious that other best friends didn’t do the same things we did for one another. All the hand holding, light kisses, embracing one another. Ah- I remember, he used to love twirling my hair between his fingers. Hah.. It was so long back then.. I guess.. It all just seemed so normal.. So natural.. We just assumed that others just didn’t share the same relationship that we had. I guess we were right in a way. 

It was when we were seventeen and eighteen, the summer before our graduation year, that we finally realized what was really going on. 

We had always had sleepovers. We had always shared a bed. There was nothing unusual about this particular night, except that the power was out. It had been an awful storm and the wind and messed up the power lines. Usually we would fall asleep watching movies or playing old video games, but that night, we had resorted to listening to my old battery operated record player and just laying in bed. It was late and we would usually be sleeping, but with the air conditioner not on, the uncomfortable heat and humidity, along with the awful thunder had kept us awake. For some reason, we just laid there, looking at one another. It was something about the way he looked at me that night that made my heart feel as though it was tight and beating as if I had just ran a marathon. It was I that leaned in first. He was hesitant, but followed suit soon enough. When we kissed, it was slow, unsure, curious. Now, I have had my fair share of kisses at this point, but something about that one kiss from him, that I was at a loss. We had pulled back, and he had began to try to say something, but couldn't make it past the word ‘I’. I ended up kissing him again, quickly this time, to shut him up and told him to go to sleep. He looked at me for a long moment before he let out one of the shakiest sighs he has produced to this day. I turned to the ceiling and closed my eyes, but I could feel him still staring at me. He stared until I fell asleep, hell, probably even afterwards. I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, he was gone. I didn’t ask my mom about it, even though I knew he gave her a reason, because I knew what he told her would be a lie. 

We had hung out again exactly one week later, and didn’t speak of that night. We didn’t have to. We knew. Something tells me we knew for a while now, but that night just sealed the deal. He would gently brush his fingers over the back of my hand, and I would kiss his cheek for much longer than what was deemed friendly. We never spoke about the relationship we were getting into. We never asked if this was an official thing. We didn’t feel the need to label it. It simply was what it was, and that was the end of it.

No one seemed to have noticed what was going on, which I’m kind of thankful for. We weren’t ashamed or were trying to keep it a secret or anything. We just never felt the need to flaunt around in public. It was our business and our business alone. 

We spent that summer working; I was at an auto-body shop while he worked at a cafe and we smoked more cigarettes than we should have. We would always spend weekends together and when we spent the night, we would kiss and touch one another in a wave of passion, falling asleep in each others arms. 

A year later, during the summer after our graduation, we made love for the first time. It was after he had told me he was going away to study in Los Angeles, over in the states, and planned on getting an apartment there, while I planned on going to art school here in Paris. We were both virgins, that had no idea what we were doing. He had even forgotten how to work a condom and we spent a good five minutes arguing about which way it was supposed to go on. Despite all of that, despite it hurting quite a bit, I found it to be one of the most beautiful things I had ever experienced. Having him on top of me, looking down with such passion and lust.. It was after all of that, when we had finished, that I had cried. He held me and gave me the gentlest of kisses, until it was time for him to go home. 

I did my best to keep my distance afterwards. I figured it would help when it was time for him to go. In the end, I almost missed his departure, and at the time, I wish I had. Right before entering the plane, he turned and said it. He said what we mutually just knew and kept silent about for so long. The idiot had to go and say it. I couldn’t hear it over the masses of people in the airport, but I could easily make it out from his lips. There was something about him saying, despite me not hearing it that ignited a fire in me. He decided to say it exactly as he was going to leave me for God know how long, and a part of me hated him for it. when he arrived over there, I ignored all of his e-mails, never returned his letters, but he kept sending them. He had know what he had done an apologized numerous times, but I was stubborn. I refused to forgive him, and I didn’t realize the toll it must have taken on him until a year later, when he stopped sending them. I had no right to be angry, but I was. The anger turned to sadness, and the sadness turned into misery. I would go to school, come home, and sleep. I never went out anymore, despite the efforts of the friends I had made in the past year. Everything just seemed so pointless and getting out of bed was a chore. Eventually, that misery just turned into plain bitterness. I ended up loosing my friends, and kept to myself, even after graduation. I was working for the local newspaper and renting out a crappy apartment with an obvious drug dealer, but he shared his weed in exchange of me keeping quiet about his affairs, so it wasn’t all that bad. At this point I had accepted the fact that Thomas was nothing but a memory. Knowing him, he was probably with the guy or girl that had planned on marrying and is living out is life, and if he could do that, why couldn’t I? My problem was that I was looking to get my life together in all the wrong places. I met girls at bars, brought them home, kicked them out when our shenanigans were through and always felt disgusting afterwards. I lived like that until my twenty third birthday. It was on that day, or rather, that night that I swore would be my last time at a club.   
It was at that club that I saw him again. He was with a girl. All the anger, the sadness, all the emotions I thought I had gotten over came at me all at once. I stormed over to him, pushing anyone who was in my path. He had caught a glimpse of me, and had the nerve to begin to smile. I think he got the picture when he saw my face clearly, but before he could brace himself, I punched him. Right in the face. Before the club’s security could get to me, I left. I ignored when he chased after me, I ignored when he followed me down the street, I ignored him up until he asked when I was going to stop hurting him like this. At that moment I quit walking and turned to him. I knew what he had meant. I was ignoring him now like I had all those years ago. we stared at each other for a long moment, before I told him to go back to his girlfriend, whore, whoever the hell she was, and took off. This time though, he grabbed me and made me face him, clearly not afraid of me lashing out at him again. Then he kissed me. Suddenly, I was a teenager again, kissing him for the first time. Slowly, uncertainly.. I don’t know why I kissed him back. Everything was just right at that moment. When we separated, all we had to do was make eye contact, and everything was better. The past few years, forgiven, all in that instant. Of course we would have to talk and work through it, but at the time, all I wanted to do was claim him as mine once more. He seemed to forget about whoever that girl was in the club, and we never spoke about it. It wasn’t necessary. When we got to my apartment took me, I couldn’t help but to feel relieved. He was mine again. We made love again. That was all that mattered. We ended up discussing things, how he picked music back up, from when we were kids, how he was now a DJ,what we planned on doing next.   
He ended up moving back to Paris. We got an apartment together and everything was how it was supposed to be. We eventually got married in our late twenties- I remember, he spent a good fifteen minutes saying his vows because he was so nervous and couldn’t stop stuttering to save his life. Haha… That was.. over fifty years ago… It was a happy union. We were so young, and we grew, and learned from one another. We were happy, finally. We had our ups and downs of course, but we only grew to love each other even more in the end. He has my heart, and always will, whether he knows it or not.”   
Entranced brown eyes looked up to Guy-Man as his story came to an end.   
“Whoever he was.. He was lucky. I don’t recall ever having a love like that.. ” A small chuckle of laughter was heard and Guy-Man held a somber smile.  
“You are definitely loved. You've always been loved. Since you were twelve years old.” Guy-Man was given a look of confusion as a nurse came in.   
“Mr. de Homem Christo, it’s time for Mr. Bangalter’s bath.” That was his cue to leave.  
“You've been great company. I never get any visitors, so this has been very nice.” Thomas flashes him the same smile that Guy-Man loved so very much, and Guy can’t help but to smile in return. He makes his way out of the room, and passes by the secretary.   
“Will you be back the same time tomorrow Mr. de Homem Christo?”  
“I’ve been doing it for over a year now. I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon..”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it! 
> 
> (Sorry if I butchered Guy-Man's Surname.)


End file.
